


A Form You Are Comfortable With

by Anonymous



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Body Horror, EFRW, Other, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:00:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27784111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: In which the landlords pick a familiar form for tentacle night. This is worse, actually.
Relationships: Horrorterrors/Rose Lalonde, Rose Lalonde/Rose's Mom | Beta Roxy Lalonde
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10
Collections: EldritchfuckRoseworld, Unofficial FFA Anon Collection





	A Form You Are Comfortable With

"Stop squirming, Rosie dear," says the thing behind her mother's face. The skin of it stretches too loose and bloated over the skull like a botched taxidermy, betraying an subtle incomprehension of endoskeletons. The limbs are worse, boneless, melting, yet still too solid where not-Mother's fingers work between her legs, pulsing and prying at the entrance like slugs in rippling sync. "I thought we had an agreement."

Rose bites back a childish whimper and tries again to twist herself to the side and break away, but Mother was always so tall, towering over her, and every limb is pinned, despite the discrepancy in number. Rose does not think about what must be holding her down, where not-Mother's own arms do not reach. The cold, heavy weight heaves against her like a beating heart, unseen.

The last time this happened, the horrorterrors did not bother to alter their forms beyond the minimum to ensure she could comprehend it. This approach is new. Rose would not consider it an improvement.

In response to her struggle, not-Mother's fingers dig deeper, and something deep down and alien forces her to edge forward with what little mobility she retains, until one squamous digit slides in with a sickening, familiar sound. She doesn't stifle her cry this time.

"Oh, Rosie," not-Mother purrs, as she wriggles in another finger, "you should really learn to loosen up. We chose this form from your mind, after all. You should be grateful."

A moment later, the fingers lose all pretense of fingerhood, and Rose can feel them stretching inside her, lengthening and squirming. The long, fluid strings slide through her, the base teasing at her, the ends finding all the wrong places inside, together drawing a soft, unwilling moan.

The sound directs not-Mother's attention to Rose's mouth, and a moment later, something curls slick and throbbing at her cheek. It plays at the corner of her tightly-pressed lips, and she breathes through her nose, less controlled than she would have hoped for, as she feels the tentacle leaving sticky residue along her jawline.

Not-Mother smiles, and then thrusts without warning, jerking Rose's mouth open in a gasp, and the tentacle slithers in to coil inside like a second tongue. Any saved retort dies under the pressure of it, and the bulk muffles her sharp, heavy breaths as they follow.

"Isn't this so much nicer than usual?" not-Mother asks.

Rose tries to scream. Her throat fills with darkness.


End file.
